


Mail Order Stiles

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Western, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bad Touch, Blind Horse, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fire, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Found Families, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Harlequin, Harlequin Big Bang, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mail Order Brides, Marriage, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Orphans, Pack Feels, Past Abuse, Sharing a Bed, Tropes, Virginity, a non-con touching scene, aged-down characters, but it's short, but without werewolves, mute character, oh and, so much more like, the betas are children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Stiles laughs. “The day I become a mail-order bride is the day I eat my hat.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>“You don’t even wear a hat."</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>“I’ll buy a hat for the occasion,” Stiles says. “A white one with a veil.”</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Stiles doesn't eat a hat, but that's just because he's too busy with his new husband, his five children, his new husband's ex, and a deadly feud with the neighboring ranch)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mail Order Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my sounding board and cheerleader from the beginning, majoline, who doubles as an excellent beta. And thanks to reddwarfer, who is ~magic. She helped doctor the story until it was fit to post.
> 
> This story was written for the [Harlequin Big Bang](http://harlequinbbang.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Before you read this story, I must warn you that it's not really fit to be called a Western, since there's very little Old West 'values' in it. Men can be brides to other men, racism isn't touched on, and besides the big things, there are probably anachronisms in there that I didn't catch. I had the vague idea that this was set in the late 1800s, but I don't have a clear year.
> 
> [pikasafire made a mix and banner art! ](http://pikasafire.livejournal.com/97252.html) I am so excited to have it. :D

“Why can’t _you_ take him in?” Derek asks, watching the toddler chew his own fat fingers.

Doc Deaton shrugs, jostling the boy. “He’s too young to be left alone, and I get called away too often.”

“What about the Martins? Or even the Argents?” Derek asks desperately.

“Who’s at the door?” comes the nervous call behind him. It's Isaac, the newest addition to the Moon Rider Ranch. He's only been with Derek and the others for a month now, and is still jumping at shadows.

“It’s just Doc Deaton,” Derek reassures him. “Get back to the table and eat.” Isaac is skinny as a rail, and Derek is constantly trying to feed him up.

“No one wants to take him in. He’s too small to work and he’s mute,” Deaton says. “Folks say he’s too much trouble.”

“Can he hear?” Derek asks, looking closer at the young boy. He’s cute with a flop of dark brown hair and big brown eyes. 

“Clear as a bell,” the doctor answers. “But he was with his ma when she passed, and that was a bit of an experience for him. I think he’ll talk again eventually. He just needs love and patience.”

“He’s how old?” Derek asks. He reaches out and touches the boy’s hair. It is as soft as it looks. The toddler gives him a hesitant smile and Derek feels a strong pull.

“Three years,” Deaton says, handing the child over to Derek. “His name is Scott.”

Derek takes Scott into his arms and the two continue to stare at each other. “All the others have been older. I don’t know if I can-”

“You’ll do just fine,” Deaton says with a smile. “Let me get his things; they’re in the wagon.”

Derek sighs and pets the boy’s head. “Looks like you’re mine now. I’ll try not to mess you up too bad, kid.” He carries Scott inside, into the dining room where the others were gathered around the table for dinner. They all look up and Derek studies their faces.

Boyd, the oldest, looks resigned. He’s been with Derek the longest now (three years, since he was ten) and is used to new faces, so his attitude makes sense.

Erica looks up from her book — she’s reading at the table again — and looks interested. “Is he staying?”

Jackson pulls a face. “We don’t need another one around here.”

Isaac still looks relieved that the knock on the door hadn’t been someone to take him away. He's another runaway, and though he doesn’t talk about it, he seems haunted by his past. Derek does his best to take care of him and make him feel safe, but it's been an uphill battle. Derek doesn't always know what he's doing.

“This is Scott,” Derek says. “He’s ours now. He doesn’t talk, so don’t expect a lot of conversation from him.” He frowns, wondering how much three year olds are supposed to talk. 

“Who’s going to take care of him when you're out working the ranch?” Jackson asks, crossing his arms.

Derek hasn’t been thinking of that. He looks around the table. All the kids have their chores before and after their school work, and he thinks that's good for them. He isn’t sure if they could handle a three year old on top of that. He’d do it himself, but his foreman is a moron and if he doesn’t stay on his back all the time, nothing around the ranch would get done.

“Oh, hell,” Derek says, looking at the toddler. 

“You should get married,” Isaac says quietly.

Derek snorts. The last time he’d proposed marriage, the woman had broken his heart and ran off east. That was three years ago. He hopes Kate Argent never comes back to California. He never wants to see her face again.

“That’s actually a good idea,” Erica says. “It’s just a matter of finding the right person.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Everyone in Beacon Hills is married or too old. Or too young.”

“There’s Miss Morrell,” Erica points out. “She’s single and the right age.”

“Miss Morrell only likes ladies,” Derek pointedly mentions. 

Erica deflates for a moment, then perks up again. “I know! You can advertise for a match in the papers. I’ve seen ads...” She got up and hurries over to Derek’s desk to get the latest newspaper.

“How would you even know they are who they say they are?” Boyd asks, ever suspicious. 

“You could ask for references,” Jackson says, sounding reluctant to enter the conversation.

“Or you could use an agency. Here’s an ad for one: _Happy Endings Matchmaking. Find your true match through our unrivaled system. Send a picture and description of yourself along with what you are looking for in a mate and one dollar._ That sounds promising, doesn’t it?” Erica asks.

Derek is at a loss. He has five children now and a ranch to run. He does, in theory, require someone. But a spouse?

“You’ve got a weird look on your face,” Jackson says.

“What look?” Derek asks.

Scott pats Derek’s cheek and that is enough to make up Derek’s mind. He needs a partner. His children deserve someone who can care for them better than Derek has been. Derek holds Scott closer and kisses his forehead. 

“Okay. We get our picture taken in town tomorrow,” Derek says. “Then we send for a bride.”

* * *

“What do you think of this: _Father, I have decided to follow in the footsteps of so many other brave frontiersmen-and-women and seek my fortune in the West. I know that in time, you will understand. Sincerely, your son._ ” Stiles looks up from the latest draft of his letter.

“Your father will follow you to the ends of the earth, you know that, right?” his roommate, Adams, says. “And what do you know of farming or ranching? You’re studying Law!”

Stiles sighs. “I feel so … stifled here in the city. I belong out there!”

Adams shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you. Your father will never let you go.”

“He’s overprotective, is what he is,” Stiles grumbles. “He expects me to become a lawyer and practice in the city and never step foot out in the open. I feel like a caged bird!”

“You’re so dramatic,” Adams says. “You sound like my sister. She’s living in Kansas now, though. Married to a homesteader.”

“Where did she meet a homesteader in New York?” Stiles asks curiously.

“Oh, they met through a matchmaking agency,” Adams says, as if this were an everyday occurrence. 

“Wait, you’re telling me that your sister was a mail-order bride?” Stiles asks, stunned.

“You don’t have to say it like it’s a bad thing,” Adams says. “Maybe you should look into it. Marry yourself a farmer out West.”

Stiles laughs. “The day I become a mail-order bride is the day I eat my hat.”

“You don’t even wear a hat,” Adams says.

“I’ll buy a hat for the occasion,” Stiles says. “A white one with a veil.”

“You shouldn’t knock the idea before you really think about it, though,” Adams says. “Your father couldn’t make you come back if you were married.”

That makes Stiles stop short to consider the matter. Adams is right, his father _wouldn’t_ drag him back to the city if he were a married man. But what kind of man orders a bride through an agency? Who would Stiles be stuck with? Although he supposes he could call it off if they don’t suit in person.

“What’s the name of this agency?” Stiles asks lightly.

Adams starts laughing and doesn’t let up for awhile.

* * *

I am 24, hardy and fit. I own an  
established ranch in California.  
I have 5 children, ages 3-13.  
Looking for a partner, kind and  
intelligent, who wants a family  
and home.

“I think it needs more oomph,” Erica says. “Maybe a poem?”

“No,” Derek says.

“You should add that you’re handsome,” Erica says.

“They’ll see the picture,” Jackson says. “Though .. why did we all have to be in it, again?”

“Because we’re a family,” Derek says.

“I like that you said you wanted someone kind,” Isaac says. “That’s good.”

“Idiot. He’s not going to want someone mean, is he?” Jackson says.

“What have I told you about calling your brother names?” Derek says sternly.

“Not my brother,” Jackson mumbles.

Derek looks at Isaac to see how he was taking that, but the boy seems all right. Jackson, though, is looking at his lap, frowning. Derek sighs. “We’re a family. We might all come from different places, but we’re together now.”

Jackson glares but nods without speaking.

“What do you think, Boyd?” asks Derek.

“I think it’s perfect,” Boyd says reluctantly. “Should get you someone good, I guess.”

Derek hasn’t been thinking of the people answering. He’s been focused on the ad itself, not the prospective mates. Now, he feels like scrapping the whole idea.

“It’d be nice to have a mom,” Isaac says quietly.

“What if it’s a he?” Erica asks.

Isaac shrugs. “You know what I mean. Doesn’t matter if they’re a man or woman, just … mom-like.”

“A nurturer,” Erica says matter-of-factly. “You should look for someone like that in your replies, Derek.”

“What, I’m not nurturing?” Derek asks with faux affront.

Everyone snickers at that and even Scott grins with good humor. 

“We wouldn’t want you any other way, though,” Isaac says.

“Yeah, what Isaac said,” Erica says, coming around to hug Derek. She doesn’t hug him often and Derek never knows what to do with affection, but he hugs back as best he can.

They are a motley crew, but they are family, and Derek loves them.

* * *

It is the photograph that clinches it. The ad itself is nice enough, sweet really, but the photograph is what makes up Stiles’s mind.

He looks and looks at the man in the picture, and at the children surrounding him, and decides the man is lonely and the children need more love. If he was the romantic sort, he'd say he fell in love at first sight.

It is the photograph that makes him send his first letter, and three months later it is the memory of that lonely, rugged face that makes him send his positive response to Derek Hale’s proposal.

His father finds out, of course, the day Stiles is to leave.

“You can’t possibly think you’re going to be happy with someone you’ve never met before,” Mr. Stilinski says. “And California? Are you out of your mind?”

“I’ve decided,” Stiles says stubbornly. “You can’t change that.”

“I’ve never even heard of Beacon Hills. Is it close to Sacramento?” Mr. Stilinski asks.

Stiles shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I hate the city. I’ve always hated it.”

“And you say this man has children?” his father asks.

“Five of them,” Stiles says.

His father can never say Stiles knows nothing of children, at least. Stiles has frequently watched the neighbors’ children for their parents and is quite good with them.

Mr. Stilinski sighs. “What if this Hale is taking advantage of you?”

Stiles pulls out a letter from his coat pocket and hands it over. “Read this and tell me he’s taking advantage.”

His father unfolds the letter and begins to read. His eyebrows go up about halfway through and when he finishes, he sighs again. “I can’t stop you?”

“I think I could really be happy with Derek and the children,” Stiles says. “He’s a good man and they need me.”

“You’re so young yet,” Mr. Stilinski says. “You have such a bright future in the law.”

Stiles makes a face. “I don’t want a future in law, Dad. I want this, a husband and a family.”

“You could find a husband here…”

“No,” Stiles says. “I need to leave the city.”

“To go to this Moon Rider Ranch? Does it have to be so far away?” his father asks.

“I think so, yes,” Stiles says as gently as he can. “This is my future. I’m going. And think of it this way: you’ll have grandchildren!”

“I’m too young to be a grandfather,” Mr. Stilinski mutters.

“Apparently not,” Stiles says.

“Can I at least come and visit?” his father asks. He sounds resigned.

Stiles smiles. “Of course. I’m not leaving _you_ , I’m leaving the city. I love you, Dad.”

Mr. Stilinski sighs and gives him a small smile. “I love you too, son.”

* * *

“Is that from Stiles?” Erica asks Derek excitedly. “Is it his answer?”

“Yes and yes,” Derek says, handing her the already-read letter.

Her eyes widen and she grins as she reads Stiles’s reply to his proposal — a letter the entire family helped write. “He’s coming!”

Derek smiles. Stiles seems perfect for the kids.

“This is so romantic,” Erica says, clutching the letter to her chest. “Two lost souls finding either other…”

“I’m not a lost soul, and neither is Stiles,” Derek says firmly. “And it’s not romantic. It’s an arrangement.”

“I don’t think he knows that,” Erica says, scanning the letter with a frown. “Look: _I’ll try my hardest to be everything you need, Derek._ And he signs it with Xs. Kisses! That’s romantic.”

Derek takes the letter back from her and frowns at it. Surely Erica is reading things into where they don’t exist. “I guess we’ll see.”

Erica continues to frown. “Don’t you dare break his heart.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start!” Derek says, but he knows all about broken hearts. After all, he’d pined for Kate for years after she left. He only stopped wanting her back a few months ago.

He decides, for the sake of there being no misunderstandings, that he should send Stiles a letter outlining what he expects and doesn't expect.

He doesn't expect love or sex. He wants a partner, a co-parent, someone to be a friend. He writes this down, seals the letter, and sends it off the next day from town.

* * *

At the beginning of the journey, Stiles decided there is nothing on earth he hates more than long train rides. Now, he mentally crosses that out. There’s nothing on earth he hates more than long _stagecoach_ rides.

There’s another passenger, a beautiful woman in fresh clothes. Stiles’s clothes stopped looking fresh back in St Louis.

“Hi, I’m Stiles,” he says, because if he doesn’t make conversation he’s going to die of boredom. “This is my first trip to California. How about you?”

The woman looks at him and then smiles. “I’m Kate. I’m from California originally. I’ve been in Boston, at college.”

Stiles grins. “What were you studying?”

She waves her hand airily. “Something of everything. The classics, business, a bit of law.”

“I was a law student,” Stiles offers. “Pre-law, anyway.”

“You’re very young to be travelling across the country by yourself,” Kate says.

Stiles sits up straighter. “I’m almost eighteen!” Well, five months from eighteen, anyway.

Kate tries and fails to hide a smile. “Excuse me, you just look younger.”

A sigh and then Stiles is jumping back in with, “So, where’s home?”

“Beacon Hills,” Kate says. “Or rather, a ranch a few miles from the town.”

“That’s a coincidence,” Stiles says. “I’m going to Beacon Hills, too. To get married.”

Kate raises her eyebrows. “Really? Tell me about this. How did you meet?”

Stiles knows he’s glowing with happiness now. He’s been practically floating on air since Derek’s proposal. “I answered an advertisement in the Matrimonial News.”

Kate’s eyes get bigger. “Did you really? I don’t think I’d ever be able to do that. So you've never met?"

“I know him well enough,” Stiles says with a slight frown. “We sent letters back and forth for three months.” Not many letters, but enough.

“But … how do you know he’s not out to take advantage of you? Turn you into a workhorse, a slave? Or beat you?” Kate asks. She doesn’t wring her hands or show any other outward sign of distress, though. She sounds excited. Stiles pushes that thought aside. He must be imagining things.

“How would I know any of those things about anyone?” Stiles asks. 

“Hmph, I suppose,” Kate says. “Do you have a picture, at least?”

Stiles grins and takes out the only photograph he has. It’s good, the one that made him fall in love in the first place. Derek just looks so lost, so alone, even surrounded by his children. He’s devastatingly handsome, though. 

Kate snatches the photo from Stiles’s hand and looks at it. Then she snorts. “Derek Hale? And who are all these… children?”

“You know him?” Stiles asks, wondering why Kate sounds the way she does, sort of choked and angry.

Kate’s eyes narrow for a moment, and then she smiles. “We have what you might call a history.”

Stiles bites his bottom lip. 

“The children?” Kate prompts.

“Oh, they’re his,” Stiles says.

“You mean he adopted them,” Kate corrects.

Stiles sets his jaw and takes the picture out of her hands. “He adopted them, yes. But that means they’re his. And now they’re going to be mine.”

Kate shakes her head. “Lot of responsibility for a seventeen year old,” she says. “What do you get out of this?”

_Home. Family. Love._ “Enough.” He looks out the window and sees that the stage is pulling up to a small town, and a sign says, ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’. “We’re here.” His stomach is jumping. He’s about to meet Derek for the first time — and get married!

Kate sighs. “It’s just, well, Derek doesn’t _like_ other men. Or boys.”

Stiles whips around to stare at her. “He’s marrying me.”

She shrugs. “I know him pretty well, honey.”

The stagecoach pulls to a stop and Stiles has to be urged out. He's stuck on what Kate just said. 

When he steps down, he sees Derek right away. He smiles weakly. A few hours before, he imagined this moment as the happiest in his life. Now, with Kate’s words whispering in his head, he’s not so sure.

Stiles takes a deep breath, gathers his courage, and walks right up to Derek to say, “Hello, groom. It’s good to finally meet you. Are the children close by? Are they coming to the wedding? Or will it just be us?”

Derek’s eyes are clear and bright when he smiles and says, “The kids are at home. Boyd is making our wedding supper.”

Stiles reaches out to touch Derek’s hand, almost scared he isn’t real. He’s even more handsome in person. He’s shaved for the occasion, so he isn’t wearing the same scruff as in the photograph. Stiles isn’t sure which way looks better; he thinks Derek would look good in anything, maybe even a burlap sack.

Derek reaches back and their fingers touch lightly. But then something happens and Derek is stepping away, scowling. Stiles follows his gaze and sees Kate walking by with an older gentleman. Kate looks at Derek over her shoulder and winks. Derek scowls harder.

“So, um, you know Kate? She said she knew you,” Stiles says uneasily.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Derek says, his whole face shutting down.

They get Stiles’s baggage and put it into a wagon. There’s already some dry goods and fresh produce in there, and Derek covers it all with a tarp in jerky motions. Stiles can tell he’s angry, and that the reason behind his anger is Kate, but without more information he can’t do anything to make it better.

“Let’s go get married,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles by the elbow and pulling him across the dusty street to a small white church. 

Stiles isn’t religious but there’s something nice about the inner chapel with its wooden benches and dust motes sparkling in the air. There’s a couple of people waiting for them, but Stiles is so nervous he doesn’t catch anyone’s name. The ceremony is short, and Stiles says, ‘I will’ when he’s prompted. So does Derek, and then he’s moving closer to kiss Stiles and Stiles closes his eyes, ready for it. 

As first kisses go, it doesn’t even rate. Derek must change his mind at the last minute; he presses a soft kiss to Stiles’s cheek. Stiles tries to hide his disappointment. Maybe Derek just isn’t one for public displays of affection.

_Or maybe he doesn't think of you that way_ , a voice whispers in his mind. It sounds suspiciously like Kate.

* * *

The ranch is miles away from Beacon Hills. The ride is long, and it's dark by the time they pull through under the sign that says 'Moon Rider' in decorative writing. There's an outline of a bucking horse under a quarter moon. The sign is crude but beautiful in its own way.

"The sign is nice," Stiles says.

"Jackson carved it," Derek says gruffly. "He wants to make a new one, so I bought him a wood-carving set for his birthday." It's the most he's said all day.

"It's good, and not just for a twelve year old," Stiles says. "When does he turn thirteen?"

"Two weeks," Derek says. "He's been waiting to be the same age as Boyd again, even if it'll only be for a month."

"I can't wait to meet them," Stiles says, but he doesn't move when the wagon comes to a stop in front of the sprawling house. Derek stays, too, looking at him quizzically. 

"Okay?" Derek asks.

Stiles twists his hands in his lap. "What if they don't like me?" _What if you don't like me?_

A curtain in one of the front windows twitches. Derek says, "Well, they don't have much of a choice, do they?"

It's not exactly comforting. Stiles shrugs. "They're my children too, now. I know I'm going to love them. I half love them already. It'd be nice to have that back."

"They've been looking forward to this for three months. You had them at the first letter," Derek says.

Stiles knows the letter well; after laboring over it for so long the thing is memorized. He doesn't think there's anything special about it, though. He just introduced himself and stated what he was looking for: a partner, a family, a home. Apparently that worked.

"It'll be getting cold soon," Derek says, and jumps down from the wagon. "Go on in; I've got to get the horses settled."

Stiles climbs down and straightens his shirt. He's travel-rumpled and he's sure his face is dusty from the wagon ride. He takes a few steps toward the house and stops.

"It'll be alright," Derek says. "I'll bring your things in after I deal with the horses." Stiles steels himself and goes to the door. Derek is watching. "Go on in."

The decision to knock or not to knock is taken from him when the front door swings wide open and a young blonde girl stands with a hand on her hip. "You're taking _forever_. Dinner's getting cold." Her words are scolding but she's got a huge smile on her face.

"You must be Erica," Stiles says, grinning back.

She beams even more. "Well? Get in here!"

* * *

When Derek gets back to the house, he's not sure what to expect. He hopes the kids haven't talked Stiles to death. He knows the boy — man — had a long day of traveling, and is probably tired and ready for bed.

Something in Derek's stomach clenches at the thought of sharing a bed with Stiles. It's their wedding night, but there won't be a proper bedding since their relationship isn't like that. Theirs is a partnership, an arrangement for the sake of the children. He reminds himself of this before his mind goes straight to other, more pleasant places.

He winds his way to the dining room and stops in the doorway. There's soft light emanating from a couple of oil lamps, but that's not what makes the room so warm and cozy. It's the smiles, the laughter, coming from his children and new husband. Stiles is sitting at the far end of the table, Scott on his lap, smiling at the kids like he loves them already. He looks like he belongs. The sight makes Derek feel close to complete.

Then Stiles sees Derek in the door and grins wider. "Come on in and eat."

Scott grabs a biscuit from Stiles's plate and takes a bite. Stiles smiles at him and nuzzles his hair. Boyd stands to fix Derek a bowl of his famous stew, Derek's favorite meal.

Derek sits at the head of the table, opposite Stiles, and looks around. Everyone seems happy; even Jackson, who's surly on a good day, looks content.

"Stiles was just telling us about his dad," Erica says. "He can shoot a nickel piece out of the sky!"

Derek raises his eyebrows. "Your father's a gunman?"

"He calls himself a gun _enthusiast_ ," Stiles says. "He's usually just a lawyer, though."

"Can you shoot?" Isaac asks Stiles.

Stiles shrugs. "Not as good as my dad."

"We get snakes sometimes, and coyotes. It's good for you to know your way around a firearm," Derek says. He takes his first bite of stew and hums to himself. He catches Boyd watching and gives him an affirmative nod. The stew is delicious, as always.

Scott is rubbing at his eyes with baby-fat fists. Stiles looks down at him and cuddles him closer. "Where's Scott's room? I'll put him down."

Derek gives him directions. "I'll give you the full tour tomorrow." He's proud of the house he built, even though it was originally for Kate and the many children he hoped they'd have. It turned out okay, though. Now there's plenty of room for everyone.

Stiles leaves the room and Derek watches him go, watches the lines of his back and the gentle sway of his hips.

Derek snaps out of it when Stiles is out of sight and looks at the remaining kids. "Well? What's the verdict?"

"We're keeping him," Erica says.

"Yeah," Isaac agrees.

"I guess so," Jackson says with a small smile.

"Boyd? What do you think?" Derek asks.

Boyd is suspicious of everyone. Has been since Derek's known him. He's always honest, though, and Derek likes that. If Stiles passes the Boyd test, there's not much more to say.

"I think he'll fit," Boyd says.

Derek sits back in his chair and nods to himself. He chose right.

* * *

The bed is big enough for two. It's big enough for four or five, actually. Stiles wonders where Derek bought it. 

He's got other things to think about, though. Like the fact that it's his wedding night.

Derek is nowhere to be found. The kids said something about him checking on the foreman. Stiles gets ready for bed on his own.

He gets cleaned up as well as he can with the water in the basin. He cleans _everywhere_ , then slips into a simple white sleep shirt made of thin cotton. He knows it won't hide anything if he stands just so in front of the candles. He's not ashamed of his body; he exercises regularly even though he has spent most of his life sitting and studying.

He's standing in front of the candles when Derek comes into the room. Derek's eyes dart around the room instead of falling on Stiles and he doesn't say anything. Stiles looks at his toes, disappointed at the reaction. 

"So. Eventful day," Stiles says.

Derek nods and turns around, then starts stripping out of his clothes. Stiles's breath catches in his throat at the sight of Derek's well-defined back.

"You have a tattoo. What's it mean?" Stiles asks before he realizes that saying something would reveal that he's _looking_.

Derek looks over his shoulder and says, "It's my family's … crest, I guess you could call it. Their mark."

Stiles notices Derek doesn't say 'our' mark. He doesn't include himself in his family. Stiles senses another sensitive topic and says nothing more about it.

Derek strips down to nothing but a pair of long johns. While he washes up in the basin, Stiles slips into bed. He's way on one side, and the other side is wide and empty. Derek blows out the candles and then lies down on his side of the bed. It's dark, and Stiles is as stiff as a board, not knowing what will come next.

Well. Stiles knows the logistics of sex, it's not that. He's just not sure what Derek will do first. 

But nothing happens. Stiles's eyes adjust to the dark and by the light of the moon he can see Derek's face. He's staring at the ceiling.

"Derek?" Stiles whispers. "Are you-"

Derek doesn't look at him, though it would be easy to do. Instead, he says, "I don't expect anything."

Stiles's heart sinks low. Kate's words to him echo in his ears because now there's proof that they were truthful. Derek isn't attracted to him. He doesn't like men. Stiles has married a man who won't touch him.

He swallows hard. He rolls onto his side, his back to Derek, and fights back tears.

"Good night," Derek says gruffly.

Stiles knows if he answers, his voice will crack. He settles on giving a small, "Mm." 

He doesn't sleep until it's almost dawn.

* * *

Scott wakes at dawn, and Stiles gets up with him. It's a relief to be out of Derek's bed. It's comfortable enough, but being so close to Derek, the man he's been dreaming of for months, hurts Stiles's heart. Not being able to touch, or even talk about it, is torturous. 

After Scott is changed and dressed, Stiles makes his way down to the kitchen to start breakfast for the family. He finds Boyd baking biscuits. Not wanting to take his place, Stiles asks if there are eggs.

"I'll get some!" Isaac says eagerly, coming out of nowhere. He runs outside with a basket.

Stiles smiles. "Hmm, what else do we have here?"

Before long, a large breakfast is served at the table and everyone but Derek sits around eating and chatting about their coming day.

"There's a new schoolmarm," Erica says. "None of us know who she is yet, just that she's coming today."

"Do you like school, Erica?" Stiles asks.

"Sometimes it's too slow," she says, "and the teacher has to wait for Isaac to catch up with an idea because he's the youngest. Mostly it's fine and we can learn at our own pace."

"Are there many children in your school?" Stiles asks.

Jackson says, "There's us, Derek's kids, I mean. And Lydia, Danny, and Allison."

Stiles looks at Isaac, whose face is burning red. It must be hard for him, being the youngest in the school. Stiles hopes he isn't picked on. He has a hunch that Isaac's been picked on enough in his life. Stiles makes a mental note to himself to help Isaac stay up to speed with his schoolwork. 

Soon it's time for everyone to go off. Apparently the walk to school is long. Stiles pats Jackson on the back and squeezes Erica's hand and fluffs Isaac's hair and clasps Boyd's shoulder, wishing he could hug them all. But it's too soon for hugs, especially, it seems, for Jackson and Boyd. Jackson, who looks angry at the world, and Boyd, who is just wary.

When the older children are gone, Stiles turns to Scott and says, "Looks like it's just you and me, buddy."

* * *

Derek is still thinking about the way Stiles's body looked in the thin nightshirt he'd worn the night before. It's difficult not to think of. 

The only reason Derek slept is because he was exhausted. Ranching is hard as it keeps him going, keeps him working. Today he has to make up for work he missed the day before because of getting Stiles from the stage.

He's a married man, now. It's strange; he has no ring, no outward sign of the … agreement. He curses that it's what it is, that he can't touch Stiles the way he wants. Stiles offered, in a way, but Derek doesn't want him out of obligation or whatever Stiles was thinking. He wishes he knew what Stiles was thinking when he whispered his name in the dark.

There's a snapping of fingers in front of his face and Matt is looking at him with crude amusement. "You missed the hole."

Derek wants to snarl at his foreman, but he messed up with the fence. Derek's aim was off and the post didn't go into the freshly-dug spot.

"Hope you didn't do the same thing last night," Matt chuckles. 

Derek scowls. "Shut up."

"Is he pretty?" Matt asks. "You didn't introduce him to any of the hands."

Derek doesn't want to share, but he says, "I'll bring him around before dinner." He hopes Matt will get back to work now. 

"Maybe I should advertise for a bride," Matt says. "Some young thing with a nice ass."

Derek glares. "Where would she stay? The bunkhouse?"

"I'm gonna have my own ranch one of these days," Matt says. 

Derek huffs. "Not without working your ass off," he says. "Which is one thing you're never in danger of doing."

Matt ignores him and rests his arms on a post. "My own ranch and a hot little wife waiting to spread her legs for me day or night."

"There's a lot more to marriage than sex," Derek says, disgusted. "Now get back to work. These holes don't dig themselves."

* * *

Stiles hears the children before he sees them. He has fresh-baked cookies waiting for them on the table, and when the kids come in and see them, the cookies go straight from hands to mouths. 

Derek walks in and nods at the kids. They all seem happy with this, as if this is the pinnacle of affection. Stiles knows he's going to have to work on this.

When the children's mouths are no longer full of cookies, they start to talk about their day.

"Our new teacher is nice enough, but Isaac doesn't like her much," Erica says, reaching for the last cookie. Stiles sweeps the plate away before she can grab it and offers it to Derek.

Derek smiles and the sight makes Stiles's heart flip. Derek takes the last cookie and bites, nodding his appreciation. 

Stiles looks at Isaac and asks, "Is there something wrong with the new teacher?"

Isaac shrugs and doesn't make eye contact. "Just don't trust her," he mumbles.

"I think Jackson's sweet on her, though," Erica says.

"I am not!" Jackson denies.

"No, Jackson's crush is Lydia," Isaac says.

Stiles wonders at what age crushes begin and tilts his head, listening to his kids talk about inconsequential things like how much they enjoyed their lunches and who's the smartest in their small school.

There's a lull in conversation and Stiles asks, "What's the new teacher's name?"

"Miss Argent," Erica says. Stiles can practically feel Derek go stiff.

"She's Allison's aunt," Isaac adds.

" _Kate_ Argent?" Derek asks between clenched teeth.

Stiles blinks at him. It makes no sense, the way Derek responds to Kate's presence or even to her name. Of course, Kate said they had history, and that she knew him well. Stiles wonders if she meant intimately. He wonders, horrified, if Derek is in love with her.

Erica says, "Yes," in a suddenly timid voice, and then Derek is stomping out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

Stiles bites his lip and wishes he knew what Derek is thinking.

Maybe Derek and Kate had a relationship before, and were separated for some reason. Maybe now that Kate is back, Derek wishes he hadn't married Stiles. Maybe he wants another chance with Kate. That would explain the anger. Stiles would be frustrated as hell in that situation.

Stiles smiles at the kids and wipes Scott's hands and mouth. "Dinner's in two hours, you have until then to do your schoolwork."

A collective groan goes up, but Stiles says, "I'll help if you need it."

And so they begin their homework, which isn't much, but it gives Stiles something to think of other than the Kate thing.

* * *

Derek stomps out to the barn, saddles up his horse, and rides out to the spring. He needs to cool down and get Kate Argent out of his head. 

He strips down and takes the plunge into the clear, cold water. It feels good to swim out in the middle of his land where there's no one to see him but his cattle. He knows he's lucky to have an abundance of fresh water on his land. The Martins have a spring, too, but he's heard rumors that the Argent wells are running dry. It fits with the way Gerard Argent offered to buy him out last month (at a ridiculously low price, however). 

Gerard never liked Derek. When Derek asked the man for his daughter's hand (purely out of respect for the man's old-fashioned sensibilities), Gerard laughed at him. Said Derek was a nobody going nowhere, not good enough for his daughter.

The experience almost pushed Derek back to his family, who are far from nobodies. The Hales aren't as rich as the railroad barons, but they're more comfortable than the Argents and even more than that, well respected and well known.

But Derek split from his family for a reason. He's going to earn his own way if it kills him. Laura always said he's the most stubborn person in the Hale family, and he's inclined to agree. He won't go back now, just like he wouldn't go back because of something Gerard Argent said. He wouldn't give his uncle the satisfaction of being right.

He misses his sister, though. His parents too, but mostly Laura, who's only two years older and as close to him as anything. They still write, though Derek's cut off communication with the rest of the family. He couldn't stand his mother's pleas for him to make up with Peter and just come home, or his father's offers of a place in the family business — a place he hasn't earned.

The last letter to Laura told her about Stiles, about the arrangement they made, about how good he is with the kids. She should get it in about a week or so. He wonders what she'll say in return.

Probably that he should tell Stiles about Kate. Probably that he should tell Stiles how much he's appreciated, and that maybe Derek was too hasty writing off a real relationship. But he doesn't want Stiles to think Derek married him with another idea in mind.

Derek is determined not to make Stiles feel pressured just because Derek's had a change of heart.

* * *

Sharing a bed with Derek is still torture. Tonight is warm, and Derek has stripped down to practically nothing. Knowing that much gorgeous bare skin is only a reach away makes Stiles hard. He can't help himself; he's a virgin in bed with a beautiful man.

"Derek?" Stiles asks.

Derek shifts until he's looking at Stiles. 

Stiles chickens out, can't possibly _ask_ for sex. He wracks his brain for something else to say. "How'd you end up with so many kids?"

There's a soft exhale, like a laugh, and Derek says, "It started with Boyd. I found him in my barn about three years ago. I was... it was a rough time, but Boyd needed me and at the time I needed a distraction. Taking care of Boyd, making sure he had food and a nice place to sleep, it was something I could do. I think I needed him more than he needed me, to be honest."

"Where did he come from?" Stiles asks.

"I never asked. He ran away from something bad, and that's all I need to know," Derek says.

"And the others?"

"Jackson and Erica came in on the Orphan Train," Derek says. "Jackson was sullen and nobody'd wanted him until the train got to Beacon Hills. But- I don't know why I took him in. Something about the way he looked. I wanted to make it better."

Stiles's heart swells. "And Erica?" 

"She came in on the Orphan Train about a year after Jackson. She was dressed as a boy, a scrawny one, but a boy. I looked at her, asked her why she was on the train. I usually don't ask, but," Derek trails off. Then he smiles. "She said her parents were poor and couldn't afford all their kids, so Erica had volunteered to be the one to leave. Apparently there was a big fight over it, but she was the oldest. I thought about how brave that was and I ended up taking her home with me."

"Isaac?" Stiles asks.

"Another runaway," Derek says. "He's been hurt a lot. He's scared to death someone's going to come get him, I think. He's not been here that long, less than six months, and he's just gotten to the point where I can touch him without him jumping a mile or cowering."

"How'd you get him?" Stiles asks.

"He got caught stealing at the trading post in town while I was there. He was starving. So I paid for the apple he'd been taking and then told him he could come home with me and get a real meal if he wanted. He was difficult at first, jumping at shadows, but I think he's gotten a lot better."

"This is the most I've ever heard you talk," Stiles says. "I like it." He waits a little bit and asks, "Do you ever wish for biological kids of your own?"

Derek shakes his head. "What I have is enough. They mean the world to me." In the moonlight, Stiles can see Derek's small smile. "We should sleep."

"Okay," Stiles says. "But this was nice."

Derek is silent for awhile. Then he says, "Yeah." He turns over, his back to Stiles, and Stiles sighs. It's going to be another long night, he thinks.

Derek falls asleep first, of course. Damn him. It isn't fair that Stiles is the only one affected, but that makes a wave of sadness crash over him. Derek is growing on him. Stiles is afraid he's losing his heart to his husband. He wants to laugh. Under the right circumstances, that would be a good thing. 

A muffled sob comes from beyond their bedroom wall. Stiles sits up, wondering which of the children is having a nightmare. He starts to get out of bed when a hand stops him. Derek's fingers curl around his wrist warmly, and Stiles looks at him in the dark.

"It's Isaac. I'll handle it," Derek says.

But Stiles follows him into Isaac's room to make sure the boy is okay.

Derek shakes Isaac awake. Stiles watches as Isaac comes awake, then buries his face in his pillow, his shoulders shaking. Derek pats his shoulder, then turns around to leave. He looks surprised to see Stiles has followed him.

Stiles moves out of the way to let him pass into the hallway. He can't believe that's all Derek is going to do. Isaac is obviously in distress and Stiles's heart goes out to him.

"Night," Derek grunts, and Stiles watches him disappear into their bedroom. 

Stiles sighs and sits down on the bed beside Isaac. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks. He rubs Isaac's back and tries to think of what else he could do.

"No," Isaac says, then sniffles and rubs his face against his pillow.

"After my mom died, I used to have a lot of nightmares. Panic spells, too, where I couldn't breathe. My dad would rub my back and talk to me until I felt better. Sometimes he read to me," Stiles says.

"My mom died, too," Isaac says quietly. It's mostly muffled into the pillow, but Stiles understands.

"I'm sorry," Stiles says sincerely. 

"My dad never read to me," Isaac says, and there's something in those words that make Stiles want to hug him and never let him go. 

"Would you like me to read to you tonight?" Stiles asks.

Isaac rolls over and looks at him. His face is red and splotchy. "Will you? Really?"

Stiles smiles. "Really. Let me just go get a book."

He leaves the room and picks out one he's been wanting to read himself. When he comes back, Isaac is sitting up in bed and looking better.

Stiles sits beside him and starts to read. He can tell by the end of the first chapter that _Oliver Twist_ is going to be a favorite. Even though Isaac's blinking tiredly, he still asks for more.

When Stiles finally goes back to bed, Derek is silent but Stiles can tell he isn't asleep. Stiles is exhausted. He closes his eyes and burrows his head into his pillow.

"Thank you," Derek says, or maybe Stiles dreams he says.

* * *

Weeks pass. 

Stiles seems to be in every crevice of Derek's life. He's wormed his way into Derek's heart with his smile and quick wit. The children love him. Even Jackson, who seems to find it hard to love anyone. Even Boyd, who doesn't take to people easily.

Jackson's birthday comes and Stiles bakes him a cake. It's delicious; Derek hasn't had cake in a long time. It reminds him of home.

Jackson's pleased when Derek presents his gift. "So I guess I'll get to work on the new sign," he says, and even though he tries to say it nonchalantly, he can't keep the excitement out of his voice. 

While they're at the table, chattering and finishing their cake, there's a knock at the door. Derek gets up to answer, and sees Chris Argent. Stiles wants to be introduced, and Derek is as polite about it as he can be. He has nothing against Chris other than being the brother to the woman who broke his heart. The name Argent is a sore spot, but Chris has never done anything to him.

Stiles offers Chris cake, but the man declines. 

"I'm here to talk to Derek," Chris says.

Derek and Chris go into the study and Derek shuts the door tight. "What do you want?"

Chris runs a hand through his short hair. "Gerard wants to make another offer for your ranch."

"The answer is still no," Derek says.

"It's a fair price this time," Chris says.

"I don't care if he offers a thousand dollars," Derek says. "I said no the first time, and I meant it. I'm not selling."

Chris sighs. "That's what I thought. I told him as much, but he figured with prices being what they are, you'd jump at the chance to make that much money."

Derek gives him a bored look. "I'm not hurting for cash," he says. "I've sold some horses as well as cattle."

"I'd heard that, but I wasn't sure it was true. You're trading in both now?" Chris asks.

"The horse trade is more lucrative than cattle right now," Derek says. "I've got the know-how."

"Damn," Chris says. "I wish you'd reconsider, though. Your spring is all the old man talks about. I'm getting tired of hearing about it." He smiles like he's joking, but Derek doesn't doubt it's the truth.

"I'm not selling anything to Gerard," Derek says. Not even if he needed to.

Chris narrows his eyes. "Is this about my sister?"

Derek knows he's scowling now, but he can't seem to stop himself. "No."

"I'm sorry for what she did," Chris says. "I didn't know you were so serious about her. It was wrong the way she strung you along and left."

"I'd rather not talk about it," Derek grits out.

Chris nods. "That's fair. Well. You're married now, and Stiles looks like a fine young man."

Derek should correct him, let him know theirs isn't a true marriage, but he just can't do it. "He's a good person."

"And not so hard on the eyes, either?" Chris asks with smile.

"Keep your eyes to yourself," Derek growls.

Chris laughs. He offers his hand and Derek shakes it grudgingly. 

"I'll see you at the town dance, maybe," Chris says. "Everyone's going to be there. You should bring Stiles, make a night of it."

"When is it?" Derek asks.

"Two weeks, Saturday," Chris says. "It's a potluck."

It would be good to get Stiles out of the house for a change, give him the opportunity to meet friends. "We'll be there."

Chris shakes Stiles's hand on his way out. Stiles smiles at him politely, the perfect host. Chris mentions the town dance and Stiles looks excited.

Derek smiles at his enthusiasm and falls a little harder.

* * *

"And Lydia was crying and Jackson told her we'd take it!" Erica says over the rest of the kids' frantic chatter. Everyone is talking at once, but Stiles can't. He's feeling slightly ashamed and like he's about to get in trouble.

Derek looks thunderous. Jackson winces.

Stiles bites his lip. He hadn't meant to do this. It was just supposed to be a simple trip to the General Store with the kids. He planned on buying the children some penny candy along with the household staples, but that was the extent of it. He didn't mean to bring it home.

Derek turns to Stiles and says, "I hope your side of the story is actually coherent."

"Wellll," Stiles says, and he notices that the kids have gone silent to listen to his excuses. This'll be fun, he thinks. "The Martins were in front of the store when we drove up..." Stiles thinks of little twelve year old Lydia and her tearstained, stubborn face. His heart went out to her when he saw her, even before he knew what was happening.

"I got that much," Derek says. "Go on."

"Lydia was crying and screaming at her father, and then Jackson ran up to her and she started sobbing out the whole story to him," Stiles says. He takes a deep breath and plows on. "Apparently her horse went blind, and her father was going to shoot it. Something about it not being trustworthy or spooking too easily."

Derek frowns and nods. Apparently this information about blind horses isn't new to him.

"Right. So then Jackson tells her that we'd take the horse..." Stiles stops there. He remembers thinking how much progress that was for Jackson, to care about someone else that much. And how that led him to giving in, for Jackson's sake. He can't say that in front of Jackson, though, so he shrugs. "And I said yes."

"Stiles," Derek says, like he's about to give a lecture. Then he shakes his head. "What am I going to do with a blind horse?"

"Scylla," Jackson mumbles. "Her name's Scylla. Lydia named her after some Greek myth or something."

Derek fixes Jackson with a glare. "Again I ask: what the hell am I going to do with a blind horse? She'll need a separate corral so the herd doesn't pick on her, and extra attention and time... Time I don't have."

"I'll take care of her," Boyd suddenly says.

"She doesn't know you," Derek says. "It'll take a lot of patience to gain her trust."

"I'll do it," Boyd says firmly. "I know I can do it."

Stiles can't hide the smile that breaks out on his face. 

Derek gives him a hard look that softens the longer he stares at Stiles. Stiles wishes he could read his husband like a book he'd read to one of the kids. It would make the whole (strange) marriage a lot easier.

"Alright, Boyd," Derek finally says. "But if you slack off and no one is there to take care of her, I'd be doing a kindness putting her down."

Boyd gives him a nod and immediately goes outside, presumably to deal with Scylla. 

"I hope you didn't forget the food in the middle of all the excitement," Derek says to Stiles, and it takes a moment for Stiles to realize he's teasing.

"Oops," Stiles says, making his eyes comically large.

Erica giggles and the other children join in.

Derek goes and unloads the wagon while Stiles takes care of Scott, who is now tired and cranky.

"Not as cranky as your Papa can get, though," Stiles tells him as he puts him down for a nap. Scott looks around when he hears Stiles's name for Derek like his Papa will be there. He starts sniffling when he sees he's not. Stiles shushes him and strokes his hair. "He's outside, but if you're good and take a nap, when you wake up it'll be time to eat and you'll see your Papa then."

Scott blinks slowly and then closes his eyes. Stiles lets out a small sigh. He waits for Scott's breathing to even out, then goes to put the food away in the larder.

* * *

Being in the same bed as Stiles drives Derek to distraction. His husband still wears a thin nightshirt to sleep, and all Derek can think of sometimes is hitching it up around his waist and exposing the perfect ass he only gets glimpses of. Stiles is, of course, completely oblivious to his own charms. He probably has no idea what he does to Derek, how hard he makes him, how hot and desperate.

Derek flings the covers off himself, stifled by the heat. He shuts his eyes tight against the moonlight and wills his breath to get under control. He breathes like he's asleep, slow and deep, hoping that will relax him. He tries to think of other, undesirable things. 

There's a slight rustling of the sheets on Stiles's side of the bed. He's not asleep yet, then. Derek has caught him awake several times over the past weeks, usually in the middle of the night when he should definitely be sleeping. Derek doesn't know if something has been plaguing Stiles's mind or if he's just a poor sleeper.

There's more rustling, and a quick intake of breath. Then Stiles lets out the quietest moan Derek's ever heard.

Keeping his breath as even as possible, Derek opens his eyes and looks at Stiles. His face has a blueish tint to it in the light of the full moon. His eyes are closed. His lashes are long and full, Derek can see. And his arm, his hand, is hidden under the sheet but Derek _knows_ what he's doing. 

Derek swallows thickly and feels his cock harden to fullness. The thought of Stiles pleasuring himself, right there next to Derek, in _their bed_ , does things to him. Derek's already discarded his side of the sheet, so there's nothing to hide with when he touches himself through his underwear. Stiles is breathing faster, and the idea of him, of what he must feel like in his own hand (thick? long? most definitely hot and hard), is making Derek's own cock throb.

Slowly, Derek dips his hand under the band of his underwear. His hands are rough and callused from work. He wonders how much different Stiles's hands would feel. 

Stiles makes another soft noise, and the sound makes Derek suck in a breath. Beside him, Stiles stills and opens his eyes. 

"Oh," Stiles breathes, his eyes wide. "Sorry..." His gaze flicks down Derek's body to where his hand disappears under his waistband, and his breath goes shallow and quick. 

Derek's not thinking right, otherwise he'd stop. But he's thinking with his dick, and that means stroking down slow from the head to the base, all while watching Stiles in the moonlight. "It's alright."

Stiles _whimpers_ and then he closes his eyes and touches himself again. Derek doesn't know whether to close his eyes, too, or if it's okay to watch. Not that there's anything to watch down there, since the sheet covers everything, but Stiles's face is so damned expressive. 

Derek loves the way Stiles bites his lip to stop himself from moaning, and loves the way he ends up moaning anyway.

The rustle of the sheet speeds up, and Stiles plants his feet on the bed, his knees bent, his body lifting up a little as he fucks into his hand. Derek catalogues every movement, feeling hot all over, desperate to touch, shame at feeling so much. 

Derek jerks himself faster, harder, imagining himself fucking into Stiles heat. He'd be perfectly tight and hot and he'd moan even louder than he is now. Derek would wring out of him every sound he could, whimpers and groans and especially Derek's own name.

Stiles is quiet when he comes, but Derek still hears the tiny sob and the harsh panting in the dark. Derek's close himself, but he wants so much more. He wants Stiles.

Stiles looks over at him then and their eyes meet. Stiles looks completely fucked, debauched, and Derek can only wish he'd been the one to make him look that way.

"Derek..." Stiles whispers, and that's enough to send Derek over the edge, a long hiss escaping his mouth when he comes.

It takes only a little time for him to come back down. Derek doesn't know what to do once the feverish need has passed and they're laying awkwardly in bed together. So he rolls with his back to Stiles and wills himself to sleep. Beside him, Stiles huffs and Derek feels him roll over as well. 

It's a long time before either of them fall asleep.

* * *

"I see your husband shaved for the dance," Miss Morrell says, smiling a little. Around them, music plays and couples dance.

"It's only the second time I've seen him clean-shaven," Stiles admits. His eyes keep wandering over to the people dancing.

"Oh? When was the first?" Miss Morrell asks.

Stiles smiles. "When we first met and got married."

Miss Morrell shakes her head. "I still can't believe you met by letters. What was it like, being a mail order bride?"

"Nerve-wracking," Stiles laughs. "But I knew from the first time I saw his picture that he was the one for me."

"That's so romantic," Miss Morrell says. 

Stiles wishes the end result was a little more romantic. Derek has been avoiding him ever since that night in their bed. He brought Stiles to the dance like he said he would, but then he disappeared.

"Oh, excuse me, I'm being summoned," Miss Morrell says, rolling her eyes. She disappears into the crowd and Stiles is left on his own, nursing a weak, warm lemonade. He frowns at it and goes to get a real drink.

He watches the dancers some more and wishes that was him and Derek, smiling at each other and having a good time. Stiles knocks back his whiskey, wincing as it burns going down. The music changes, and a fast waltz starts up. Stiles sighs and gets up, determined to find his husband.

He asks Doc Deaton if he's seen Derek, and Deaton says, "Check the blacksmith's shed. That's where he usually holes up during these things."

Stiles stumbles along the sidewalk until he finds the smith's. He hears voices before he sees them. 

"I know you still love me," says a voice, a familiar one. Kate Argent.

"You left," Derek says.

Stiles opens the door to the shed and sees them standing close together, Derek's back to Stiles. Kate's eyes flick over Derek's shoulder and for a moment she just looks at Stiles, but then...

She kisses Derek. Stiles can tell she's the one who initiates it; she's the one who leans in first. But Derek doesn't stop her. He kisses _back_.

Stiles must make a sound because then Derek freezes and pulls away. He turns and opens his mouth, but Stiles doesn't want to hear whatever he has to say. If Derek admits to loving Kate, it will hurt, and Stiles's heart is already broken enough.

* * *

"Stiles!" Derek calls, and starts to go after him. 

Kate grabs him by the wrist. "Baby, don't leave."

Derek scowls at her and pulls away roughly. "He's my _husband_."

"We both know you'd rather have me," Kate says. Her smile is sweet and yet entirely fake. How many times had Derek fallen for that smile and never noticed it didn't reach her eyes?

"I'm a married man," Derek says. "And I _don't_ want you. Not anymore, not for a long time."

Kate shakes her head, looks sad. She steps up closer to him and he can smell her sweat and perfume. "I know you still love me. Remember what we had?"

"You're wrong," Derek says. "You never even loved me, did you? Or you wouldn't have left the way you did."

"I did love you. I do," Kate says. Derek knows she's lying. She lays her palm against his chest and for some reason, Derek lets her. "But Stiles doesn't even know you. Not like I do. He could never love you as good as me."

It hurts because it's partly true. Stiles doesn't love him. Doesn't care for Derek the way Derek has learned to care for _him_. 

But if that's true, why did Stiles look so hurt just a few minutes ago?

Derek pulls away from Kate. "Stop it." He turns on his heel and leaves.

Behind him, Kate calls out angrily to him. He hears her but doesn't care. He starts to run toward where their horses are stabled. 

Stiles's horse is gone. Derek gets into the saddle of his own horse and rides after him, knowing where he's headed.

* * *

Stiles isn't crying anymore by the time he reaches the Moon Rider. He's not sad, he's numb and determined.

He's taking the saddle off his horse and getting ready to rub her down when he realizes he isn't alone.

"Hubby not looking after you tonight?" the foreman asks.

Stiles squints at the man in the lantern light, trying to remember his name. Matt something? "I wanted to get home early," Stiles says. "To check on the children."

Matt saunters closer and Stiles shudders involuntarily. There's something about the foreman that he doesn't like.

"Everyone thinks I don't pay attention, Stiles. Can I call you Stiles? 'Mr. Hale' is the boss man, not a pretty little thing like you," Matt says.

"I can't talk right now, I have to go in," Stiles says, trying to brush past him.

Matt grabs him by the wrists and holds him in place. "We're having a conversation, don't be rude."

"Let go of me," Stiles says, trying to think of a diplomatic way out of this.

"As I was saying, I've noticed something about you," Matt says, ignoring the way Stiles is trying to pull away. "The way you pant after your husband, always with that hungry look on your face. He isn't enough for you, is he?"

Stiles is shocked and feeling sick. Is it so obvious, the way he wants Derek?

"You're not satisfied with him, are you?" Matt asks, and pulls Stiles tight against him, biting his neck.

"Get off!" Stiles says, kneeing him in the balls as hard as he can.

Matt tries to catch him, but he's not quick enough. Stiles gets inside the house and locks the door before Matt can grab him again.

Shaken but still determined, Stiles walks upstairs as calmly as he can. He ignores Erica's questioning look, his heart breaking.

He goes into his — their — bedroom and pulls out his trunk. He sighs, then winces when he remembers that his husband is in love with someone else. Brokenhearted, he begins to pack his things.

* * *

Derek is glad to see Stiles's horse in the barn. He notices it hasn't been properly tended to, though, and it makes him feel guilty. Stiles must be extremely upset.

He's running to the house when Matt calls out to him.

"Hey, boss!" Matt says.

Derek stops and turns to him. "Is it important? I'm in a hurry."

Matt narrows his eyes. "Just wanted to give you some friendly advice about your piece of ass. You'd better keep an eye on him. He came to me begging for it, because apparently you aren't giving it to him good enough."

Derek grabs him by his shirt with one hand and punches him in the nose with the other. There's a satisfying crunch beneath his knuckles when his fist connects. "Stay the hell away from my husband."

Matt spits and sputters on the ground. "Fuck you, Derek."

"You're fired," Derek growls. "Get out tonight or I'll seriously start considering shooting you."

Matt laughs and wipes blood from his nose. "You can't run this ranch without me."

"Watch me."

"You're gonna regret this," Matt says ominously, but Derek ignores him and leaves him there.

* * *

"Hey," Derek says from the bedroom door. Stiles freezes.

"Hello," Stiles says, and is proud his voice doesn't shake.

Derek looks at what Stiles is doing and he frowns. "Don't leave."

Stiles just shakes his head and continues packing. He wants to stop, wants to believe Derek really means it, but he knows what he saw.

"Kate and I are through," Derek says. "She... I don't know what she was doing tonight, but it's over. It's _been_ over."

"You kissed her back," Stiles says before he can stop himself. "It's... it's not okay, but if you want to be with her, I'm not standing in the way."

Derek makes a frustrated sound like a growl. "I don't want her. I used to, but not anymore."

Stiles rounds on him, suddenly angry. "So what _do_ you want?" Because it's not him.

"I want you to stay," Derek says, looking away. "The kids love you. They need you here."

"They would love anyone who just took the time to get to know them and take care of them," Stiles says.

Derek shakes his head. "They need _you_."

Stiles feels like his heart is in a vise. He takes a step closer and Derek looks up, his eyes wide and wild. Stiles can feel his own breath coming faster, his heart pounding. "What about you? What do you need?"

" _Stiles_ ," Derek says, quiet and intense. "I need you, too."

Stiles doesn't understand the look in Derek's eyes or the rough emotion in his voice, but it doesn't take a genius to understand the way Derek finally pulls him close and kisses him.

Stiles's feels something inside him expand, and in his mind he can hear a swelling symphony. He thinks, _finally_ , and surrenders. Soon both he and Derek are panting, breathless, yet both of them seem reluctant to pull apart. Stiles's hands fist in Derek's shirt as he holds on for dear life. His knees are weak and he moans softly, not caring how he sounds, only wanting more.

It's Derek who finally pulls back.

"What?" Stiles mumbles, dazed.

Derek looks just as stunned, but then he frowns and turns away. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Stiles asks again.

Derek turns and leaves the room, leaving Stiles more confused than ever.

* * *

Derek stays in the barn that night. He doesn't trust himself to be close to Stiles, doesn't think he can keep himself from touching him, kissing him again. 

He falls asleep cursing himself for falling for his husband, for wanting more than they'd agreed on. For going back on his promise of not wanting _more_.

He wakes to the sounds of Boyd taking care of Scylla.

Boyd's quiet with her, soothing her with what words he does use, but he mostly uses his hands, getting the horse used to his touch. It's an exercise in trust and Derek is proud of the boy for doing so well. He's the one who's been with Derek the longest, and they've been through a lot together. 

Derek is musing and getting himself straightened out for breakfast when a strange horse and rider comes up to the house. Derek calls out, "How can I help," when he sees the man is wearing a star.

"Derek Hale?" the man asks, dismounting and tying his horse to the front post.

"Yes, sir. Is there a problem?" Derek asks.

The man gives him a once-over like he's looking for something in particular. "Looks like you slept rough last night."

Derek shrugs. "You got a reason for being here?"

The man narrows his eyes. "My name's Stilinski. Sheriff Stilinski. I'm the new lawman in Beacon County."

Derek's stomach twists into a knot. "And you're Stiles's..."

"Father," the sheriff says.

Derek holds out a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Stilinski snorts and for a moment Derek thinks he's going to ignore the offered hand. But then the sheriff takes it in a strong grip. "You've got hay in your hair, son. Did Stiles kick you out of the house last night?"

"Not exactly," Derek mumbles, and the sheriff laughs. 

"My wife sent me to the sofa quite a few times while we were married, so I guess it's a family trait. I never had to sleep in a barn before, though," Stilinski says good-naturedly.

Derek feels himself flush and he rubs the back of his head. "Would you like to go in? Does Stiles know you're here?"

"I figured I'd surprise him."

"He'll be excited to see you again. And the kids think you're some kind of legend, the way Stiles talks about you," Derek says.

Stilinski shakes his head, smiling. "Can't believe I'm a grandfather already."

It makes Derek feel good, knowing the man has already claimed his children without even meeting them.

"Go on in," Derek says.

"You're not coming?" Stilinski asks.

Derek rubs the back of his neck, thinking about the fight and the kiss. "I'd rather give you two time to catch up."

* * *

There's a knock on the door and then a familiar voice calls out a greeting. Stiles nearly drops the pie he's just made and has to scramble to catch it and not get burned in the process.

Scott giggles from his place at the table.

"Did I come in time for pie?" his dad asks, and Stiles grins and puts his pie on the table, away from Scott's hands.

"Dad!"

The hug nearly knocks his dad off his feet, but Stiles doesn't care. He's missed this. Needs this.

"Missed you, son," his dad says gruffly.

"Wow. This is a surprise. You're wearing... a badge. What-? And you're here on the weekend so you can meet the kids!" Stiles says. 

"Beacon Hills needed a sheriff and I needed a change in scenery." His dad turns around and smiles at Scott. "Who's this? Is this little Scott?"

Scott gives him a shy smile.

"Kids!" Stiles calls up the stairs. Then to his dad he says, "Boyd's outside with his horse but the rest of them are in here." He listens to his children thunder their way down the stairs.

"Who's this?" Erica asks. Stiles can tell Jackson is curious but Isaac is frightened.

Stiles goes to Isaac and wraps an arm around his shoulders. "This is my father, Mr.- _Sheriff_ Stilinski."

His dad grins at the kids and says, "Call me Grandpa."

Erica grins back excitedly. Jackson frowns but Stiles knows him well enough by now to know the boy is pleased. Isaac says, "You're the one who can shoot a coin out of the sky?"

Stiles's dad laughs. "Haven't done it in awhile, but yeah."

"That's amazing," Isaac says softly, smiling. Stiles squeezes him and knowing he'll be okay now, lets him go.

The kids then start shooting questions at him, and their new 'Grandpa' answers patiently and with a good amount of humor.

Eventually the kids start wandering outside, giving Stiles and his dad time to talk again.

"They seem like good kids," his dad says.

Stiles smiles. "They really are."

"Oh, almost forgot," his dad says, pulling an envelope out of his jacket. "This came for you the day after you left."

Stiles takes it and frowns. It's a letter from Derek. He opens it, wondering what last-minute thing Derek had wanted to say.

He reads the letter. Learns the truth, finally: Derek only wants a 'partner', not a true husband. Stiles's hand seeks out the counter and he leans against it heavily.

"Son?" his dad says. "You're as white as a sheet. What is it?"

Stiles tries to smile, to reassure him. "A misunderstanding."

But the kiss — what was that about? If Derek doesn't want him, why did he kiss him like he meant it?

* * *

It's bedtime before Derek sees Stiles again. He waits until it's late, when everyone has gone to bed, when hopefully Stiles is asleep.

Derek pauses in the doorway, looking down at his husband lying in the bed. He wants to join him, wants to touch him. Kiss him again, until they're both breathless and gasping. 

He shakes his head and gets ready for bed, pulling his boots off and stripping down to his underwear, washing up in the basin.

It's not until he's lying down in bed that Stiles speaks.

"I got a letter today," he says. "My father brought it out to me."

Derek startles. "I thought you were sleeping."

Stiles snorts and props himself up on his side. "So you wanted to avoid me some more?" He shakes his head, Derek can see him clearly in the moonlight now. "Never mind. This is about the letter. Do you want to guess who it was from? And what it said?"

Derek sits up to face him. "Just tell me."

"It was from my husband-to-be, telling me he doesn't want a real marriage," Stiles says, his voice too monotone to read. 

"You- What?" Derek asks. Surely he doesn't mean-

"The letter you sent, the last letter. I never got it," Stiles says. He laughs hollowly. "If I had, I don't think I would have come."

"You wouldn't have?" Derek asks numbly.

"Do you know how confused I've been?" Stiles asks. "And now I know the truth, that you just don't want to be married. Not really."

"You thought-"

"I thought I was coming here to be your husband, in every sense of the word. It's what I wanted, what I _still_ want. But you-" He breaks off, looking frustrated. "But then you kissed me, and that doesn't make sense. It made more sense before I read the letter."

"You still want to be my husband?" Derek asks slowly.

"Not like this, I don't," Stiles says, sitting up all the way. "I... I care for you, Derek. More than I should. And I should get the hell away from you before I fall even harder, because my heart can't take any more."

Derek swallows, his mind whirling. "Your heart?" he asks weakly.

"Are you even listening to me?" Stiles asks. "I can't live like this! Pining away for someone who's never going to love me, never feel more for me than _friendship_..."

"I do," Derek says quietly.

"...I'll miss the kids, of course I will, I love them as if they're my very own. And you, God help me, I'll miss you so much, too."

" _Stiles_ ," Derek says. "I do feel more for you than friendship."

Stiles stops speaking and blinks. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "What?"

Derek shakes his head. He's no good with words. He cups Stiles's face in his hand and leans in slowly to kiss him.

"Oh," Stiles whispers, and then Derek presses their mouths together and kisses him with everything he has.

"Don't leave," Derek says against Stiles's lips, pressing him down on the bed and rolling on top of him. 

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck and moans softly. Derek trails kisses down his throat, bites at his shoulder. Stiles makes a surprised sound and Derek finds himself grinning against his husband's skin.

Derek runs his hand up the outside of Stiles's thigh, slowly pushing up his infuriatingly thin sleepshirt. The skin he finds beneath the fabric is smooth and hot and Derek can't get enough of touching.

The kiss slowly, leisurely at first, as if they have all the time in the world.

There's a loud knocking on the bedroom door and it swings open, Boyd standing there, panting like he's been running. "Fire! The barn's burning!"

Derek rolls off Stiles and starts grabbing for his clothes. "Wake everyone who can haul water, meet them at the pump."

"Yessir," Boyd says, looking scared. "I got Scylla out, but the rest of the horses..."

"I'll get the horses," Derek says.

"What do you want me to do?" Stiles asks. 

Derek wants to tell him to stay the hell away from the fire, to stay safe. "Help with the water, we need as many strong arms as we can get."

Stiles nods and starts pulling on his clothes. Boyd has already gone, presumably to the bunkhouse to wake the ranch hands. 

"What's happening?" Isaac asks from the hall. His eyes are big and frightened. 

Stiles wraps an arm around him and leads him away, speaking too soft for Derek to hear.

* * *

"Where's Derek?" is the first thing Stiles asks when he gets outside.

Jackson points to the burning barn. Stiles can't seem to catch his breath.

"Water, we need to form a line," Stiles says, eyes still on the barn. The flames are rising higher, but then the horses come running out, panicked but okay. Derek runs out after them and Stiles sags in relief.

The barn burns quick and hot. Probably all the dry hay inside, Stiles thinks. It mostly goes out on its own before their water actually makes a dent in the flames.

Stiles can't help but worry, but there's part of him that's excited, too. He keeps looking over at his husband, who has stripped out of his shirt and is covered in sweat and soot. He's gorgeous. 

"This is all we can do," Derek finally says. The kids and Stiles roll their arms, tired from lugging pails of water. 

Thankfully, none of the horses were hurt. Scylla is in a separate paddock away from the rest of the horses. The weather has been especially mild, so leaving the horses outside for a few nights isn't a problem, or at least that's what Derek says.

Stiles takes Derek's word for it, and smiles when Derek wraps an arm around Stiles's shoulders on the way back to the house. He makes a big deal about Derek being dirty and sweaty, but his grin probably gives him away.

* * *

"There's no proof of foul play," the sheriff says with a frown. 

Derek nods. "Didn't think they'd leave anything behind to incriminate themselves."

"Got any enemies?" Stilinski says.

"I fired my foreman and the Argents are after my water," Derek says with a snort. "Could be either of them.

"What can you tell me about the Argents?" Stilinski asks.

"Rich. Proud," Derek says, then sighs. "Chris isn't so bad. But his father?" He shakes his head. "A real son of a bitch."

"Do you think they'd really stoop so low as to set your barn on fire?" Stilinski asks. "Seems more like a petty trick to me. Maybe this foreman of yours is to blame."

Or maybe Matt is working for Gerard. Nothing would surprise Derek at this point.

"Where do you think I could find your ex-foreman? What's his name?"

"Matt Daehler," Derek says. "And I'm not sure where you can find him. At the saloon, I suppose."

Stilinski nods. "I'll have a chat with Chris Argent, too."

Derek nods tiredly and wipes at his face. He smells like burnt wood and the barn isn't salvageable. It's times like these he wishes he had never left home.

* * *

After his dad has left, there's a knock on the door. Stiles figures it's a deputy or maybe his father again. It's neither.

"You must be Stiles," the old man says, looking him up and down like he's sizing him for his coffin. "Derek's... husband and our new sheriff's son. I've heard so much about you from my daughter."

"And you are?" Stiles asks.

Derek comes up behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "This is Gerard Argent, and he's leaving."

Argent smiles but it looks closely related to a sneer. "I'm here to make you a final offer."

"No," Derek says.

"It's a shame about your barn," Argent says, looking out the window at the blackened building. "Funny how misfortune finds some people."

It sounds like a threat to Stiles and his hackles rise. Derek's hand on his shoulder squeezes. 

"Get out," Derek says.

"You haven't heard my offer yet," Argent says.

"I don't need to," Derek says. "I wouldn't sell to you if yours was the last ranch left."

"You're going to regret this, Hale," Argent snarls.

"You aren't welcome here," Derek says. He sounds calm but he's gripping Stiles tight enough to leave bruises.

"I'll just see myself out then," Argent says.

He leaves and Stiles rounds on Derek. "What the hell was that?"

Derek snorts. "Gerard Argent."

"Got that much," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "Why does he want the ranch?"

"We have a spring. Fresh water. It's a valuable commodity." Derek rubs at his face.

"A spring, huh? How big is it? Is it like, a little bit of water coming out of a rock or a big lake-type thing?" Stiles asks.

"It's more like a pond. Would you like to see?"

* * *

Derek and Stiles hold hands as they walk out to the spring. It's a long walk, but the weather is nice and it's still a few hours until night falls. 

They pass Boyd on the way out, and he's riding Scylla. Carefully, and with a gentle voice, Boyd guides the horse around a boulder and smiles to himself. Derek and Stiles hold back, keeping their distance so they don't spook her. 

"They really trust each other," Derek remarks.

Stiles grins. "The horse has to trust Boyd not to steer her wrong and Boyd has to trust Scylla not to dump him on his backside."

"Boyd doesn't trust easily," Derek says.

"Can I ask why?" Stiles asks.

"If I knew, I'd tell you," Derek says. "He's just always been this way. He trusts me, but it was hard-won." It took a week just to get the boy's name out of him, and that had just been his last name.

"He doesn't seem to mind me much," Stiles says with a smile.

"You're special," Derek says, and flushes because he means it.

Stiles stops and looks at him. "You think so?"

Derek nods and points. "The spring is right behind those trees."

"Why didn't you build the house closer to the spring?"

Derek shakes his head. "It's better to leave it out here for the herd. The well works just fine for the house."

"It's so clear!" Stiles says, looking at the spring. He leans over and scoops up a bit of water in his hand. "Oh, and it's cold, too. I bet this feels good on a hot day."

"Do you want to swim?" Derek asks.

Stiles bites his lip. Derek wishes he knew what he was thinking. Stiles takes a little too long to answer so Derek just pulls his shirt off over his head and takes his boots off.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asks. He's watching avidly, his cheeks pink.

Derek grins. "Going swimming." He gets the rest of his clothes off, feeling Stiles's eyes on him, but he doesn't look his way again. He dives into the deep part of the spring.

He hopes Stiles will join him, but when he surfaces he sees Stiles is still standing by the bank, just watching.

"C'mon in!" Derek calls with a grin.

"I can't swim," Stiles says.

"I could teach you," Derek says.

Stiles smiles. "Maybe. Not today, though."

"You can wade into the shallow end," Derek says, and starts swimming that way. Then he's in water up to his waist and he stands, showing Stiles how deep it is.

"Okay," Stiles says, and hesitates another moment before he pulls his shirt off. He's leanly muscled, and Derek _wants_. He wants to touch, to feel that body under his own. To press him down into the mattress and-

Stiles wades into the water with a shocked look on his face. "Cold!" Derek notices he's only wearing a thin pair of undershorts now.

"The faster you get in, the faster you'll get used to it," Derek coaxes.

Stiles gets a determined expression on his face and wades closer. Then he's near enough to touch and Derek wraps an arm around his waist, reeling him in against his body.

"Okay, this is good," Stiles says, a little breathless. He's the one who makes the first move for a kiss, though. His lips are insistent against Derek's, and he sucks on Derek's bottom lip. 

Derek groans. "You have no idea what you do to me." His tongue sweeps into Stiles's mouth and he takes control, but Stiles isn't passive at all, giving as good as he gets.

Derek wants to take him here and now, but he knows a pond is nowhere for a first time. He doesn't want to take Stiles's virginity anywhere other than their own bed.

"Later," Derek says when Stiles moans and tries to grind against him. Derek backs up a step, puts some distance between their bodies.

"Seriously?" Stiles says, disappointment dripping from the word.

"I promise I'll make it worth the wait," Derek says.

* * *

Bedtime. Stiles can't believe he used to dread it, and now the anticipation is killing him. He's flushed for most of the day just thinking about it. Of feeling Derek's body against his again, to have an uninterrupted night with his husband. _Husband_ , he thinks, and smiles. Tonight he's getting the wedding night he missed out on in the beginning.

Scott chooses tonight to be fussy and inconsolable. But Stiles works hard at getting him to sleep, makes sure he's full (but not too full) and warm (but not too warm). Stiles sings to him until Scott falls asleep with a goofy smile on his face.

Maybe Stiles has his own goofy smile on his face when he lights the candles in the bedroom. He doesn't have anything special to wear, just his white nightshirt, but he makes sure he's clean and fresh before he slips it on over his head.

When Derek comes in, he pauses in the doorway for a moment, and Stiles wonders what he sees when he looks at him. So he asks.

Derek laughs, and the sound is so nice it warms Stiles's belly. "I've wanted you ever since I first saw you in that damned shirt, standing in front of the candles like that."

Stiles swallows and looks down at himself. Yes, he knows Derek can see through it, but it doesn't seem like such a big deal. "Do you want me to take it off?"

Derek shakes his head and closes the door. "Leave it. I've had thoughts about it for a long time, now."

"Thoughts?" Stiles asks, raising his eyebrows.

Derek walks forward. No, he _stalks_ forward. Stiles feels suddenly nervous and his heart is somewhere around his Adam's apple. Derek touches him under his chin, tilting his head up, and then he leans in to kiss Stiles's throat.

Hairs at the back of Stiles's neck stand up. He makes a soft sound that he can't help.

"You've never been with anyone before," Derek says against his skin, and Stiles flushes red. 

"No, but that doesn't mean I don't know what I want," Stiles says.

"I know what you want," Derek says, like a promise. He teases the hem of Stiles's sleepshirt with his fingertips. Then his hands are behind Stiles, inching the shirt up slowly until he's cupping Stiles's bare ass.

Stiles's breath catches in his throat. Having someone — Derek — touch him so intimately is making him feel tipsy, like he's had too much wine. Or whiskey. He holds on tight to Derek's shoulders and says, "You're more dressed than I am."

Derek smirks. "You want me naked?"

"I think you know I do," Stiles says, voice shaky.

Derek backs away and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He's taking too long. He's taking his time, going _slow_ and it's infuriating. 

" _Derek_ ," Stiles whines. 

"Get on the bed," Derek says. Stiles nods and goes to remove his shirt, but Derek stops him. "Leave it on."

Stiles raises his eyebrows. 

Derek looks like he's blushing. "I like it. I want to fuck you in it."

Stiles is thankfully close to the bed or he would have fallen over at the bold words. As it is, he sinks down onto the mattress, his eyes wide as he watches Derek take the rest of his clothes off. He's so beautiful that it takes Stiles's breath. Stiles wants to _do things_ to Derek's body. Like rub himself all over it, lick it, bite it...

"Roll onto your belly," Derek says. Stiles swallows hard and does so. He's tense now, wondering how bad it's going to hurt but at the same time not really caring because this is finally happening. Derek puts a hand on his back and rubs a little. "Relax."

Derek must have some kind of fetish for his nightshirt, because just his fingertips are teasing the hem of it, touching just where the almost sheer cotton meets skin. He pushes it up slowly, the fabric moving over Stiles's skin in a way it never has before. Then Derek makes a sound, low and pleased, when Stiles's ass is bared.

Stiles blushes and hides his face in his pillow. His face is burning even more when Derek parts his cheeks and his hot breath blows over Stiles's hole. "Oh, God," Stiles gasps. "What are you-"

And then Derek's mouth is on him, soft lips and then _tongue_ exploring his most intimate places. It's weird at first because it's shocking and embarrassing, but it feels so good that Stiles can't help but whimper and wiggle backwards a little as he tries to get more.

"One day I'm going to do this to you for hours, until you're a sobbing, begging wreck," Derek promises. Stiles whimpers again but Derek pulls away after one last long lick. "But I want you too bad for that tonight."

Stiles swallows and looks over his shoulder. Derek has a jar of something and is coating his fingers with its contents. Oil, Stiles thinks, and when Derek's fingers tease his hole he's not surprised to find they're slippery. 

"Relax," Derek says, and Stiles tries to remember how to breathe. The first intrusion is strange, but it doesn't hurt. It's a stretch and there's a warmth to it, but it doesn't start to burn until Derek adds another finger. 

Stiles grits his teeth but Derek kisses his spine and tells him to relax again. "I'm _trying_ ," Stiles says.

"You're tense all over. It'll hurt more if your muscles are all tight like this," Derek says. He bites Stiles's ass gently and that feels good, that's nice enough to make Stiles moan.

Then Derek crooks his fingers and brushes over Stiles's prostate and his whole body lights up. His cock, which Stiles hasn't even been thinking of, is completely hard again now, and Stiles rolls his hips to feel the friction of the sheets beneath him. 

"No," Derek says, and urges Stiles to move. "Up on your knees, now."

"That's just mean," Stiles mutters, but does as he's told. He trusts Derek to give him what he wants. Eventually.

Derek kisses his back and says, "Relax." Again. Like Stiles is going to forget.

Three fingers make Stiles whimper. It's good but it hurts but it's _good_. Derek reaches around and strokes Stiles slowly, so that somehow Stiles is feeling so good at the same time he's being stretched, which makes the stretching feel amazing. Stiles doesn't understand how that works, but it does.

He's really grateful Derek is taking his time, even though he all but admitted he's impatient.

It only takes a few more minutes and Stiles is rocking back on Derek's fingers because now he understands, there's a fullness he wants to get deeper inside him, there's a stretch he wants to feel even more. He's ready to feel Derek inside him, and he says so, pants it out and whines for it.

"Christ," Derek whispers. "Keep talking." He pulls his fingers out slowly, and Stiles whimpers at losing the feeling.

"Need you, Derek, please," Stiles says. "I want, I need to _feel_ you."

"Yeah," Derek says, and there's a slick sound of him coating his cock with oil. Stiles can feel the head of his cock against his hole now, and he relaxes as much as he can so he can take it in. Derek presses in, slow, so slow, and Stiles really feels it.

"More," Stiles says. Demands. Begs. "More, please."

Derek pushes in a little bit more and then his hands are at Stiles's hips and he _thrusts_ in all the way. It takes Stiles's breath. Derek feels huge inside him, and his body is clenching and he's trying to wriggle away from the pain at the same time he's wanting to push back and take more.

He ends up moving back and forth, rocking himself on Derek's cock, while Derek stays absolutely still.

" _Move_ ," Stiles whines.

"Tell me," Derek says, and he sounds intense and controlled, like he's holding back as hard as he can.

Stiles wants to sob. "Goddammit, Derek, _fuck me_."

So Derek does. He fucks Stiles wide open, slow and steady at first but the more Stiles urges him on the faster and harder Derek thrusts. When Derek finds the right angle, the one that hits Stiles's prostate, he keeps it and Stiles feels it with his whole body. He's going to come now, and Derek isn't even touching his cock anymore.

He tries to tell Derek, but the words have been fucked right out of him. He just comes, harder than he ever has in his life, clenching around Derek's cock.

Derek fucks him through it, then manhandles him, gripping his hips and pulling him back on his cock. His thrusts become erratic, more shallow, but harder and it feels good, so good that Stiles doesn't want it to end. He's pliant and relaxed now and nothing hurts, he just wants to be filled over and over.

He tells Derek this, and Derek says, "Gonna fill you with my come," and Stiles's cock twitches with interest.

" _Please_ ," Stiles begs, and that has Derek go still as he's coming.

* * *

Derek holds Stiles close to him, stroking his back while he slips into a half-awake state. His hand travels down to Stiles's ass and two fingers stroke over his hole, slick with come. Stiles lets out a pleased hum and Derek presses inside, just a little, just his fingertips. He's not ready to go again and neither is Stiles. Derek just wants that connection.

"Mmmgood," Stiles mumbles, his face plastered against Derek's neck.

Derek never thought he'd get this. Now he has it, has everything he's ever wanted. He has a husband, a real one, and a family. He's doing well with the ranch. He's done what his uncle told him he'd never be able to do: he's made it on his own.

He thinks it's time he got back in touch with his family. He's been depriving his parents of grandchildren, and now they have a son-in-law, too. They'll be happy for him, he's sure. And he'll be able to look Peter in the eye and smile, knowing he's beaten him.

He drifts off then, satisfied.

* * *

It's a week later when Stiles is sitting down to dinner. Derek is smiling at him softly and Stiles is surrounded by the people he loves and who he's pretty sure love him back. He's never been happier. 

Then a shot rings out from outside, and there's yelling and hollering and even more shooting.

"Get down, stay away from the windows!" Derek orders, and the kids scramble to the floor while Derek grabs his shotgun. 

"Don't go out there! For God's sake, Derek!" Stiles says, frantically handing Scott off to Jackson. But he's too late, Derek is already outside, slamming the door behind him. Boyd looks ready to bolt outside, too, and Stiles glares at him. "Don't even think about it," he says, and runs for a rifle.

"Derek said to stay down," Erica says, her voice small and frightened.

"You stay. All of you," Stiles says. "I'm going out there to make sure your Papa doesn't get himself in trouble."

"Papa?" Scott says, his big eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, Scott," Stiles says, bending down on one knee to look at the child. He's thrilled that the boy is speaking, but now isn't the time to celebrate. "That's right, your Papa. I'm going to go out there and watch his back." He looks at the kids, one at a time, and gives them all a reassuring smile.

And then he's going outside, intent on saving Derek from doing something stupid.

There are two bodies laid out in the yard, and Stiles only vaguely recognizes one as a Moon Rider ranch hand. The other is a stranger with a hole in his chest. Both of the men are definitely dead.

The horses are gone, that's the first thing Stiles notices when he looks around. That, and that Kate Argent is holding a gun on Derek, saying something.

Stiles isn't having any of that shit.

He creeps closer and aims his rifle. 

"If you'd have just given up the ranch, we wouldn't have to resort to this," Kate is saying.

Stiles must make a noise, because before he can get a shot off, she's turning toward him, gun and all.

"Stiles!" Derek shouts, and Stiles twists and tries to hit the ground before Kate's bullet can hit him.

He hears her laugh, then the sound of hooves as she gallops away on her horse.

Derek is leaning over Stiles, worry in his face. 

"I'm okay," Stiles says, or tries to say, because then pain hits him and he realizes that yes, he's been shot. It's his shoulder, though it hurts so bad it feels like it's his heart.

"Hold on," Derek says, gently taking Stiles's hands away from his body. "Let me see. Jesus, you're bleeding bad. You need the doctor." Derek strips out of his jacket and presses it over the wound.

"Ow, motherfuck!" Stiles hollers.

"I've got to, got to try to stop the bleeding. I know it hurts," Derek says. "There's … no way to town but walking. Running. If I can-"

"Scylla wasn't with the other horses," Stiles pants. He can hear her distressed whickering from his place on the ground.

Derek frowns. "She's blind, Stiles. I can't-"

"Boyd can ride her," Stiles says, nodding at Derek. "She trusts him. Go get him, he's in the house."

"Stiles..." Derek says, obviously not wanting to leave his side.

"Go," Stiles says, and then everything is black.

* * *

Boyd has gone, and Derek knows it's dangerous but it's the only way to get Deaton here. Stiles is lying in the bed whimpering, but the blood has slowed its flow. Derek is beside him, stroking his short hair, wishing for revenge against Kate Argent. He knows Gerard is behind this, knows this is because Derek wouldn't give up his land.

He'd give up everything he owns for Stiles to just be alright.

The kids find themselves in the room, everyone but Scott who is taking a nap. Erica and Isaac are crying, and maybe Derek is too, just a bit. Jackson's face is stony.

"It's just his shoulder," Derek says, hoping that reassures someone.

"Derek?" Stiles murmurs, opening his eyes.

Derek sniffs and leans in so Stiles can see his face. "Hey. You rest. Deaton's on his way."

"Hurts," Stiles says.

"I know. I wish I could take it away," Derek says, taking Stiles's hand.

"Scott spoke," Stiles says with a small smile.

Derek swallows hard. "What'd he say?"

"Papa," Stiles rasps. "He called you Papa."

Something grips Derek's heart and doesn't let go. He has everything he wants, right there in his house. Everything he ever dreamed of. "I love you. Stiles. I love you."

Stiles closes his eyes. "Tell me again when I'm not shot, 'k?"

Derek squeezes his hand. "I'll tell you every day for the rest of my life."

Stiles's eyes are still closed, but he smiles. "Such a sap."

"Don't tell anyone," Derek says, and Erica lets out a wet giggle. "Stiles, open your eyes. Stay awake for me."

"I'm awake. Just tired," Stiles says. He looks around the room and frowns. "You kids shouldn't be in here watching me bleed."

"You're stuck with us," Jackson says.

"Doc's gonna shoo you all out once he gets here," Stiles says weakly, but he's smiling.

"We'll stay 'til then," Isaac says. "D'you want... Maybe I could read to you?"

Stiles nods. "Go get _Oliver Twist_."

Isaac smiles and Derek realizes Stiles loves his kids just as much as Derek does.

* * *

It hurts when Doc Deaton extracts the bullet, but Derek is there, holding Stiles's hand. Stiles focuses on his husband, on his clear eyes and tender expression. It's almost too much emotion for Stiles to bear at the moment.

"We have to watch out for fever," Doc Deaton says to both of them. "Otherwise, you look good. You were very lucky to have been shot where you were. An inch lower and it wouldn't have been so good for you."

Derek's grip on Stiles's hand tightens. "Thanks, Doc."

"Can I sleep now?" Stiles asks.

Derek runs a hand over Stiles's hair and kisses his forehead. "Yes."

"Don't leave, okay?" Stiles says.

Derek lies down next to him on his good side and closes his eyes, seeming to match his breathing to Stiles's. "I'll be right here."

Stiles nods and lets himself drift off, safe and whole.

* * *

The sheriff catches up with the Argents two days later. There's a shootout and two of the deputies are killed, along with one of the Argents' ranch hands and Matt Daehler. Gerard Argent gets away, but Kate is arrested. She admits to everything, though there's enough evidence against her to see her hanged anyway.

Stilinski tells Derek everything over a big breakfast the day after the shootout. Derek can't help but wish he'd been there; he felt so helpless staying behind.

"It's my job to catch the bad guys, son," Stilinski says. "It's your job to watch over your family at home."

Stiles spikes a fever that night. Derek is holding him loosely, sleeping, when the heat wakes him. 

"Wake up, Stiles," Derek says, panicking when Stiles only moans. Derek gets cool water and a cloth to bathe Stiles's face and body. Stiles whimpers and shudders at the attention, but Deaton has told Derek to expect this. Derek is not going to panic. He's not losing Stiles, this is just normal after a traumatic injury. It's a little late to be happening, but it's not an infection. Derek keeps repeating that to himself. If he says it enough, maybe it will be true.

In the morning, Derek sends Boyd back to town to get the doctor. Just in case.

Stiles wakes, disoriented but not delirious. "Hey," he says, and makes a face at how hoarse he sounds.

"You need water," Derek says, and holds a glass while Stiles drinks.

Stiles smiles at him when he's done and it makes Derek's heart turn over. "You're a good husband."

Derek watches him. "I'm going to try to be."

"I love you," Stiles says, and it's a shock to hear the words, but before Derek can say something in return, Stiles's eyes are closing again and he's slipping back under to sleep.

By the time Deaton shows up, Stiles's fever has broken and he's safe but still sleeping.

Derek lies beside him, not so close as to crowd him, but close enough to touch. Stiles's words keep echoing in his head.

He's not sure how he got this lucky.

The next day he writes a letter to his folks, a _long_ letter, and tells them everything he's been meaning to say for a long time. He tells them he's made his way in the world and that he's finally happy. He tells them about the kids, how each of them is special and how much they mean to him. He tells them about Stiles, how they'd had their ups and downs but now everything is looking up.

He doesn't wish he could run back to the family business and take his part in that. That was a dream in the past, but now that he has a whole family and a real home, he only wants to visit. Maybe he can convince Laura to come out and stay with them for awhile. She's always loved horses.

He writes, _We'll come home for a visit as soon as I hire a new foreman and some more hands. I can't wait for you to meet my family. I know you'll love them. They're easy to love._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you can, can you drop me a line and tell me what you thought? <3


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